Unchained (34 page)

W
ITH BOTH OF
them more than a bit worse for wear after their Vegas getaway and last night antics, quiet was the order of the day.

They ate breakfast in silence. A hangover did horrible things to the senses, making extraneous sounds plain torture.

With a few hours to kill before they had to meet Sawyer at the airport, he indulged his wife with a shopping spree that nearly set fire to his credit card. She went nuts in every kid store along the way, buying the baby whatever he’d need for the next two years. And what she didn’t get for Daniel, she got for Dylan and Bella. The trunk of the big Town Car he hired was crammed with boxes and bags.

And that was before he ushered her into every high-end store they had time for. Louboutin. Chanel. Versace. Victoria’s Secret. Dior.

They ate at the Cheesecake Factory and people-watched in relative silence.

He figured her quiet was due to the excesses of their weekend and didn’t worry too much about it. Had they talked and tried to work on their issues? No. But they’d rebooted their physical relationship. The high voltage lovemaking they’d indulged in was a reminder of all the things he was trying so hard to control. His sex drive. Her passion. And the very real possibility that, just like before, the nonstop nature of their intense couplings would inevitably lead to another pregnancy. And for him, that remained the ultimate deal breaker. She wasn’t built for making babies. End stop.

It wasn’t until they were on board the jet and settling in for the short flight home that Drae started to feel uneasy.

Examining his wife, he ticked off a few things of interest. She wasn’t fidgeting at all. In fact, she was so still and unmoving, he briefly wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

And why did he have to wonder if she was awake or not? Because once they settled in the cabin, her sunglasses stayed on. It hadn’t seemed odd at the time, but it was starting to work on his nerves.

Didn’t take a genius to realize her reserved behavior was more than a simple hangover. Hell. It was late afternoon, and he felt fine. She normally bounced back quickly after an excessive night.

She’d joked about PMS’ing. Was that why she appeared out of sorts? Drae knew it wasn’t politically correct to harbor such thoughts. A smart guy was expected to be gentle and understanding when his woman dealt with cycle realities. But talk about it out loud? No fucking way. Unless he had a desire to have his balls torn off, even a shithead like him knew not to ever even remotely suggest she was anything other than her usual perfect self.

Deciding that had to be what was causing her to withdraw, Drae took a deep breath and moved next to her on the loveseat.

“Everything all right, honey?” he asked softly as he raised her hand to his mouth. Detecting no response whatsoever, he gently squeezed her fingers and suppressed a sigh when her hand remained limp in his grasp. “Would you like a soda?”

His inner voice fell down laughing.
A soda? Oh sure, ya’ dumb fuck. A soda is sure to get a reaction.

“No thanks. I’m good,” she said in an empty sounding voice. When she took her hand back and gazed out the window, he started to worry.

Okay. Strike one. Next?

Daniel. Talk about the little guy. She was always eager to prattle on about their son.

“Can’t wait to see Big D.” Jostling her with his shoulder, he kidded about how much a couple of days with his mom mom would cost. Commenting on the amount of stuff their kid had, he wondered aloud if babies just naturally led to excess.

Nothing. What the hell, man? He could practically hear crickets in the deafening silence.

Out of fucking nowhere, she blurted out, “I don’t think now’s a good time to think about another baby.”

Where the hell had that comment come from? Drae swallowed hard. The way she said it felt more like an indictment than a statement and set off every alarm inside him.

“Daniel is a handful,” she mumbled in a shaky-sounding monotone, “and with the agency ramping up to full speed, it’s probably not a good time.” She pushed the sunglasses up her nose, turned her head slightly, and gave him a brittle half-smile. “Don’t you agree?”

Jesus. He felt cornered. And blindsided. Victoria balls-out saying no more kids shook Drae more than he thought possible.

“Where is this coming from,” he asked as calmly as he could. He needed to understand her motivations because once he followed through with Carol, there’d be no turning back.

Further conversation came to a screeching halt when Sawyer called through the intercom that they were ten minutes out from landing. Time to buckle up. Out of habit, he reached for her seat belt and strapped her in. He stayed next to her on the loveseat and buckled in. When he looked back her way, Drae swore he saw her brush a hand across a cheek to wipe away a tear.

Now was not the time to get into a heavy discussion. He sighed deeply. What the fuck was it going to take for them to catch a goddamn break?

Tori was numb. It was a defense mechanism because she didn’t know what else to do. So she shut down and fought for control. Anything to turn off the horrible images roaring around in her imagination.

Carol.

A cold chill crept up her spine for the thousandth time since she saw the name displayed on her husband’s phone.

When he mentioned Daniel, that crushed some part of her. She desperately wanted another baby and was secretly pleased when her husband’s insistence they be condom-ready at all times evaporated under the onslaught of their recent lovemaking.

But Carol changed all that. Tori wasn’t sure how or why; she just knew it to be so. Another baby? She couldn’t even think about something like that now.

But saying the words out loud left a bitter taste in her mouth. She was afraid to consider for even a second what a betrayal by her husband would do to her sanity, so she threw up a roadblock and scurried to hide behind her shocking decision.

She needed Alex and Meghan. No more fucking around. The minute she got home, Tori was going to break protocol and call. Her life was falling apart, and she needed Meghan’s calm strength and Alex’s paternal input.

Now.

Not in a couple of weeks.

He had noted the time before the phone slid back into his pocket. Nine fifteen, East Coast time. That meant it was just after dinner in Arizona. The call came from Tori’s phone. The voicemail she left was unsettling. Her voice on the edge of tears, she apologized profusely for the intrusion. Finally, she begged Alex not to tell Draegyn she called and followed up with a second plea. Not for a return phone call. She wanted them to come home. Immediately. Her final words were choked with tears. “I need you.”

Hoping the St. John marriage would self-correct proved a foolish move. Should he have intervened earlier? Most of the time, Tori was a whirling ball of chaos and Drae a close-mouthed sphinx. Not a lot of clues there and certainly not enough real information for him to feel confident sticking his nose in it.

Alex let the debate swirl inside his head. He already knew he wouldn’t call her back. A phone chat wasn’t what Tori needed, plus she’d sounded rather adamant about not letting Drae know she called. His deliberation had to do with what to tell Meghan.

She was well aware of how shrewdly he’d skirted around any mention of the St. John’s, and he had to admit she surprised him by not asking. He snorted and chuckled at the same time. Sometimes, it was hard to figure out if she was playing on his need to be the man or if she was truly allowing him to call every shot.
Well, whichever it was
, he thought,
she did it brilliantly
.

Clearing the doorway into the suite’s bedroom, Alex stopped to take in the scene his godsend of a wife had set.

“Holy shit,” he muttered. Hands at his waist, he was frozen in place trying to soak it all in.

Somehow, his naughty mate managed to transform the room into a bordello. A rocket-propelled surge of heated lust exploded in his core and melted all his nerve endings.

M
EGHAN WAS PRETTY
pleased with how just a few embellishments changed the bedroom into a seduction. There was nothing like a credit card and a few hours to kill in a Pier 1 store when it came to going over the top.

She knew she’d done well when her alpha husband turned up in the doorway and nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw the scene she set. Sumptuous fabrics and lavishly appointed accessories covered every space. Brightly colored silk and velvet pillows, brass lanterns with flickering candles, fresh flowers, and red lace panels draped over the lamps gave the room a Parisian brothel vibe.

She had so much fun creating her wicked vision that Meghan decided from here on out, she’d be amassing her own little trunk of goodies—Alex had his secret stash of toys and equipment, so why couldn’t she? Turning their bedroom sanctuary in the Villa into a Bedouin tent or a tropical paradise seemed so apropos for them.

“You’ve been busy, I see,” he mumbled.

“And you haven’t,” she teased with an arched brow when she saw he was still fully dressed.

Boom. An innocent remark but a parade of serious emotions marched across her husband’s face. The phone call.

Part of her wanted to ask. She’d noticed how deftly he skirted around any mention of the St. Johns when he laid out his information confession. But she’d held her tongue because Meghan also knew something else.